My Love Avocados

Today I'm fascinated with Fiddle Leaf Figs.

Wherever we’ve lived, I’ve always thought that my house needed more things on the walls and more live plants. But it doesn’t happen.  I'm usually indecisive about my style and struggle with settling on something (anything!).  And although I buy houseplants, I inevitably kill each one of them.

Just after Aaron and I married, I had a "love avocado" seed that I wanted to sprout. I was going to grow it into a beautiful indoor houseplant and was ridiculously sentimental about it. After a year of that, and several failed attempts along with a few "love avocado" replacements, I gave up. Aaron might not know this, but I was a little disturbed by the experience and I'm grateful that it didn't turn out to be a metaphor.

But I worry about that.  I do get bored easily. I have difficulty even seeing the external world and staying in touch with that reality.  I don't intrinsically feel compelled to take care of

anything or anyone, and I'm afraid I'll give up or will fail my family.  That's usually how my story goes.

It's grueling for me to wrench myself out of my inner world and come to the surface. And when I do, I realize that, Ohh, now I see that you have no clean clothes to wear, and you need that form signed, and there are no dinner plans and you have no idea what is happening next...And of course, you need to know someone will faithfully care for you and not just care about you.

We are having a conversation on Facebook about personality profiling, and I heard another story of a woman who shifted into a different category once she became a mother.  I'm sure there are so many reasons for that, and it happened to me as well.  I think that marriage and motherhood awakened my weak F (Feeling) and hibernating J (Judging) traits that can put me in touch with people and give me clarity and resolve to take action on their behalf.

Love does that, and I hope it does that more for me.  I don't mind being subpar in those areas, because it allows me to thrive in the other complementary sphere of abstract thought and conceptualization, which is who I am.  But I love my family. And that means I need to move.  I am trying to dig deeper into my J- and F-ness.  I want to find a balance (which is the goal of being human, I think) that will reassure my family that I am committed to them, even if the execution is comically poor.  

Lay Down Your Weapons

Last night I listened to Aaron read a chapter from "The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe" to the kids at bedtime, and I was struck when he read: "Lucy and Susan held their breaths waiting for Aslan’s roar and his spring upon his enemies. But it never came."

I used to muse on the humility of Christ in letting all those terrible things happen to him for our sake.  But now it feels tied to me, to all the interactions I have each day with others.

Back in 2009, I heard a phrase in a short video by Dan Allender on the topic of learning to fight well in marriage.  Right off the bat, the most interesting bit is that he didn't call us not to fight.  You have to fight to go deeper into relationship.  You have to lean into conflict, but you do that by laying down your weapons.  That's the phrase that feels seared into my brain and pops up when I'm tempted to bulldoze others: "lay down your weapons".

That was probably the beginning of my bent toward pacifism.  I began to wonder, how could we Americans justify imperialism and wars and force-feeding "democracy" around the world?  Love doesn't force itself. Ever.

Then I started facing the reality that when I fought with people - when I disagreed or was confronted - I always armed myself. I would prepare to do battle with what I had available: words, logic, rhetoric, quick-thinking and knowledge.  Other people have wit, sarcasm, physical strength, guilt manipulation, withdrawal of affection, anger.

The object was to win, not to love.  My priest says that in "every interaction your objective is to love the other person".  I've learned that hardly ever means enlightening them by force of an argument. The forcing of ourselves upon others is not love, it is conquering.  And it serves only ourselves and our ego; it numbs our pain, it displaces our anger and momentarily quiets our fears.

So I'm trying to be an intellectual pacifist when I feel my heart snarl or gasp at something someone has done to me, or has said that stings.  I want to be like Aslan, and save my roar for the protection of others, not myself.  The great deception happens when I believe I'm protecting others when really I'm doing battle for my own self.  When my ego cannot handle being spoken to in a condescending tone, or when someone has been harsh with their response, or refused to engage with me on any sensible level.

This doesn't mean I do not have boundaries, and it doesn't mean I will not protect others.  But I believe that weapons should only be used as a last resort for the sake of loving others.  What is that fine line of protecting others with some necessary "casualties", and losing the good attempted due to a lack of concern for the harm of others caught in the line of fire?

I don't know. Lord have mercy on me, a sinner, and grant me wisdom to learn this.

Thankfulness is a Fickle Fairy

Some days I'm driving down the road, and glancing at the people next to me, shudder to think of stepping into their lives. Some days they look so sad, exhausted by life.  As if they dread their destination or maybe are grieving because of where they're coming from.  Some days they look like drones or sheep, going along mindlessly, asleep in their wakefulness.

Other times I look over and think that we all have good times and we all experience sorrow, but that our own joys are the sweetest.  I wonder if this is me on my healthiest, balanced days?  I see some of their sorrow, some of their weariness, but I catch more of their smiles, or their heads bobbing to the music.  I see them chattering on the phone or with the kids, like busy ants, content to be buzzing along, building their lives and finding pleasure as they go. On these days, I don't pity them, but I don't envy them either.  I see them as the perfect part in this universe that somehow adds up to a whole working harmony.

But then there are days, like today, when I am driving down the road and see the car next to me, and wish with all my heart that I could switch places with them. Some days all I see is an empty backseat that mocks me with its quiet.  My backseat is full of three humans who are all fighting for their place, for my attention and energy and time, and have decided that using their loudest, most annoying voice is the way to get it.

Some days, like today, every other driver I get a good look at is a woman with perfectly styled hair, perfectly applied make-up, stylish, quality clothes and well-chosen accessories - all wrapped up in a shiny, new car.  A woman I envy. While I, with my staticky, disheveled hair and pudgy, shiny face am awkwardly making my way in this dirty mini-van.  

I don't even care about keeping up with the Jones' most of the time.  But today I do.

Three minutes later, though, Michael Jackson comes on the radio; the clouds lift and we're smiling and dancing in our seats.  I feel so grateful for these people to be silly with, to be free with and to belong to. They're my people and it's just us, a small part of our little community of friends and family, all perfectly placed in the world.